


Send It

by AirForceMuffin



Category: Bend It Like Beckham (2002)
Genre: (no literally in this story they are roommates in college), Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Football | Soccer, I wrote this in five days to save my grade for a college class thanks remote learning, I'm giving this movie the ending that we all need, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Mutual Pining, Racism, September 11 Attacks, and they were ROOMMATES, no college au needed because they're literally going to college at the end of the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24950407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirForceMuffin/pseuds/AirForceMuffin
Summary: If someone asked how long it took for Jess Bhamra and Jules Paxton to become girlfriends, they might say that it took half a year—specifically, the second half of 2001, spent in America, the land of the weird and the home of the brash. But they could also say it took one very awkward hour spent hiding out from a Christmas party in Jules's backyard. Both answers would be equally true.What did it take for Jess and Jules to get together? The answer, apparently, was a fear of phone bills, a blade of grass, crazy Americans, and a laminated Brandi Chastain.
Relationships: Jess Bhamra/Jules Paxton
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	Send It

**Author's Note:**

> As people who follow me have probably noticed, this isn't RWBY or Star Wars. What gives? 
> 
> Well, I took a college course this past spring in which we watched Bend It Like Beckham. Later on, in the midst of the chaos of remote learning, I owed my professor for that class two essays, which made up more than half of my grade. In a desperation move, I asked my professor if, in place of the analytical essays (which were about other books that I couldn't even remember), I could write a creative piece about Bend It Like Beckham. He agreed. And that is the story of how I wrote gay fanfiction for more than 50 percent of my grade in a college class. And I fucking passed the class. Solely because of this. That was all a month ago, and I'm uploading it for posterity now. Whoever ends up reading this, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> A disclaimer: I'm an American who's never been out of the country, so I made no attempt to make Jess and Jules sound like they were speaking the Queen's English because I knew how horribly I'd butcher it.

**_Prologue_ **

“Right. Says we’ve got to be at practice at nine o’clock sharp. And if we’re not five minutes early, we’re late.”

“Lovely. Where’s the pitch again?”

“I thought you knew.”

“…Should’ve brought a map. I’m gonna ask that guy.”

“Go ahead.”

“Excuse me! Do you know where the football field is?”

——

“Looks like we’re missing a few people. Do you know who?”

“Just Bhamra and Paxton now, coach.”

“Huh. They didn’t seem like the sort to be late. I’ll give ‘em five more minutes and then they’re running laps.”

“Uh… coach, just a thought, but are they our British imports?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Where exactly did you tell them to go? I mean, what were your exact words?”

“Er… I said ‘be at the field tomorrow at nine sharp’… Oh, god damn it, you don’t think they went to the—”

——

“Jess?”

“Yeah, Jules?”

“Americans have the weirdest bloody football fields I’ve ever seen.” ** _  
_**

* * *

**_Hounslow, Greater London, England_ **

**_December 19, 2001_ **

**_9:26 PM_ **

Jess Bhamra wished that she had wings.

She wanted to be anywhere but this Christmas party. All she wanted to do was rise up into the cool night air, catch the jetstream, and drift on it all the way back to the warmth of California. But at the moment, all she could do was lie in the grass of the Paxtons’ backyard, gazing up at the night sky, and hope no one went looking for her. The few stars not drowned out by the blazing light emitting from the dining room winked back at her.

This should’ve been the greatest week of her life. And in some ways, it was. She was returning home the conquering hero. For the first time in her life, she was being allowed to do her own thing, and it was working out better than she would’ve even dared to dream of. But… at the same time, there were so many people at home she couldn’t even begin to face. And that was a problem because one of them was her teammate.

The squeak of the back door opening briefly rose over the blare of the party, quickly followed by the sound of it clanging shut. Soft, slow footsteps padded over the patio towards Jess. She didn’t bother to look and see who was coming. And then a face loomed over her.

Staring directly up at it, all Jess could see was the sharp chin and the short blonde-brown hair, but that was all she needed to see to know who it was.

Jules was staring off into the distance, her expression unreadable from where Jess laid.

“Jules?” she whispered.

Jules gasped and stumbled backwards, casting a few wild glances around before realizing the sound had come from by her feet. Her eyes fell on Jess, and she stared for a half-second in utter surprise before her gaze suddenly skidded off Jess like it was bouncing off ice, and she looked away.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Jules turned back toward the house. “I won’t bother—”

“No, you can stay!” Jess said hurriedly, lurching upright, seized by a sudden desperate need to keep Jules by her side. “It’s fine!”

“You sure?” Jules said, still looking as if she might bolt back into the house at any moment.

“Yes! Yes!” Jess scootched up into a sitting position, brushing the grass clippings off her arms, and realized she had no idea what to say, her nerve immediately disappearing. “I, um… I feel like we’ve barely talked since we got home,” she offered, feeling incredibly lame even as the words came out of her mouth.

 _Terrible, Jesminder, terrible. You’ll never get anywhere in life without taking what you’re given,_ a voice complained in her head—a voice that had been incessantly offering unwanted opinions on just about every single life choice since September.

“Well…” Jules tilted her head in thought. “Yeah. Can’t deny it, I guess.” She let out a short laugh. “Maybe we just saw too much of each other the last few months.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jess forced out a very unwilling giggle and hoped Jules would say something else.

Jules did not. They lapsed into silence, and Jess silently berated herself for not letting Jules go back inside. Jules _had_ to have noticed something was wrong with Jess—that was the only reason why she could’ve been acting so strangely herself.

“It’s been a crazy few months, hasn’t it?” she asked, trying to restart the conversation. “I guess we needed some space after all that.”

Jules snorted. “You’re telling me. We’re only Jess Bhamra and Jules Paxton, the first ever British girls to win an N-C-Double-A football championship.” She snorted. “’Course, all the newspapers weren’t interested in me much. It was you they always wanted to interview.”

“Probably because I was the only one they could tell apart!” Jess said, a slow grin overtaking her face. Finally, they had something.

“I’ll say.” Jules shuddered—and this was a real, genuine, sarcastic Jules shudder that made Jess inexplicably happy to see because it felt so rare now—and shook her head. “God, we really did all look the same. I swear, if you hadn’t been there, they would’ve come after me just because I had a different haircut.”

And Jess really did laugh at that, a laugh that resonated back through memories of practices played through hot thick air and shots that arced through skies turned blazing pink by the sunset.

“Long live the Ponytail Squad,” Jules said. “I can’t wait to see those buggers again.”

“Mmm. Another week and we’ll be back with them.”

Silence again. Oh, hell, Jess decided, she just needed to come out and say it.

“Jules, there’s—”

“Jess, I—”

They both stopped short and stared at each other, barely comprehending the fact that they’d both spoken at the same time.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you—”

“I wanted to say—”

They stopped again, their nearly identical words colliding midair and crumbling into nothingness.

“I… I think we’re talking about the same thing,” Jess said.

They broke into helpless laughter.

Jess took a deep breath and pushed the words out of her mouth, but what came out wasn’t at all what she really wanted to say.

“Jules… I’m sorry. I’ve been kind of avoiding you for a while,” she said. As for the truth, it was something she was keeping buried in her chest where it wouldn’t ever hurt anyone. And yet that reproaching voice in her seemed to take a different opinion.

 _Take what you’re given, Jesminder. Don’t fight against your destiny._ The voice sounded suspiciously like an amalgam of every member of her extended family that’d ever told her what to do with her life, and she was starting to wonder if Pinky’s sarcastic comments about grandmothers having psychic abilities was true after all.

“Oh,” Jules said.

Wait, did Jules look kind of… disappointed? As if maybe she’d been expecting her to say something else? Nope, no way, absolutely no way at all. Jess refused to consider that possibility.

“I…Yeah. I’ve been avoiding you too, Jess,” Jules said.

“Wait.” Jess held up her hands. I thought you were avoiding me because _I_ was avoiding you.”

 _“I_ thought you were avoiding _me_ because I was avoiding you.” Jules stopped, thinking her words over, and then sighed heavily. “Fuck, we’re dense, aren’t we?” She sat down in the grass next to Jess and drew her knees up to her chest. “I’m sorry. It’s just been really weird, you know… I guess I wasn’t sure how to deal with anything.”

“Me too,” Jess said. In a way, this conversation was an enormous relief, but it was also mystifying. _She_ was the one who’d been avoiding Jess for reasons that she couldn’t even begin to explain. What reasons could Jules possibly have for wanting to avoid _her?_ Jules was perfect! She knew how to deal with everything! It wasn’t like she had any problems or anything, right?

“Something’s wrong with us, isn’t it?” Jules said, gazing up at the night sky. “Would be nice if we could know what it is, huh?”

Unfortunately, Jess knew exactly what was wrong with herself.

Before any of them could say another word, the door to the patio swung open and Mrs. Paxton stepped out in an oddly swaying gait. Her eyes fell on Jules and Jess, and she blinked in surprise. “Oh, hello, girls. Didn’t know there was anyone out here.”

“Mom, are you okay?” Jules asked, staring.

“Oh, I’m wonderful, Juliette… I’ve never been better!” Mrs. Paxton sat down heavily on the steps leading down from the patio and waved gaily at them. “The party is a smashing success! I’ve just come out to get some air. Don’t mind me.”

“How much have you had to drink?” Jules asked.

Mrs. Paxton still seemed to have enough self-awareness to look embarrassed. “I admit I had one more brandy than I can handle,” she said, struggling to focus her gaze on the two of them. “Your father cut me off. I was getting rowdy.”

“Thank goodness your parents didn’t come, Jess,” Mrs. Paxton said. “I’d hate for them to see the state that I’m in now. What would they think of me? I’m always worried that I’ll do the wrong thing around them… They’re so quick to judge…”

“Your parents aren’t coming?” Jules asked to Jess with some surprise.

“Yeah. They didn’t feel it was proper, going to a party celebrating a Christian religious holiday.”

“A religious holiday! How did they ever arrive at that conclusion?” Mrs. Paxton gasped, making a movement that could be generously described as a helpless shrug—if helpless shrugs included doing a full-body twitch. “I’ve been to my cousins’ bar mitzvah without a fuss… all these religions have different rules about mingling, I suppose. But there’s nothing at all holy going on inside this house, if you know what I mean.”

“Do they know you’re here?” Jules asked to Jess, completely ignoring her mother’s rambling.

“Nope,” Jess said. “They think I’m at Tony’s house watching the Man U game.”

Jules shook her head. “Jeez. At least—”

A rumbling noise interrupted her. It had been going on faintly in the background for a few seconds, but now it pitched up into a deafening roar, and as Jess and Jules watched, an airplane flew low over their house, landing lights blinking rapidly. They both flinched, instinctively pressing together, and Jess wasn’t sure whether the sudden jump in her heart rate came from the plane overhead or from the feeling of Jules’s warm skin against her shoulder.

Mrs. Paxton noticed the plane too, but she made no reaction except to glance idly upward as it passed overhead. Then she noticed Jess and Jules. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You girls look like you’ve seen a ghost. The plane wasn’t that loud, was it? Honestly, Juliette. We get those every day… of course, it’s always right when we’re trying to sleep... the big jumbo jets from across the pond come roaring in like they’re having a… a… roaring competition.” She giggled at her words and kept going. “That’s why your father and I got this house for such a good price, of course. Right under a flight path to bloody Heathrow. If I’d known when we bought—”

From the house, someone called, “Paula!” and Mrs. Paxton turned toward the voice.

“YES?” she shouted back, considerably louder than necessary. The reply was unintelligible to Jess, but it made Mrs. Paxton get back to her feet. “Well, girls, I must return to the debauchery. I’ll see you all on the other side.”

With that, she disappeared back into the house, leaving Jess and Jules alone again. They didn’t say anything—only looked up into the sky at the point where the plane had disappeared behind the roof. Finally, Jules spoke.

“Heh. Guess I’m still jumpy around those. Don’t know why I worry,” she said, shrugging. “They have security now. Plus, it wasn’t like anything happened to _us.”_

“Mmm,” Jess said, but her mind was elsewhere, far away in a bed she’d been sleeping in one morning when something abruptly woke her. Because, in a way, something _had_ happened to them.

——

**_Santa Clara, California, United States_ **

**_September 11, 2001_ **

**_6:49 A.M._ **

Something jolted Jess out of her sleep. She wasn’t sure what it was when she began fighting her way out of the tangle of sheets that somehow always wrapped around her in the night, but when she had worked herself up into a sitting position on the edge of her bed, she saw the cause. Her mobile, which she’d left on her nightstand last night, was vibrating furiously.

Huh. She must’ve forgotten to turn it off last night. Jess reached for it, but as she closed her hand around it, it stopped vibrating. She squinted at the display.

Why was her mom calling her at… nearly seven in the morning? Oh. Wait. Time differences. Right. It was late afternoon back in England. She’d probably forgotten about the time difference. Jess would call her back later, after classes. Right now, she didn’t plan to spend any time more than necessary before her eleven o’clock class being awake.

“Jess?”

That was Jules, raising a sleepy head from her pillow and staring at Jess with a magnificent case of bedhead. “Do you… hear something?”

“Just my mobile. Sorry. I forgot to turn it off,” Jules said, thumbing the power button.

“No, I mean, in the hallway.”

“What?” Jess lifted her head, listening, and there _was_ something coming from the hallway. A distant pounding that was quickly fading, like someone was running down the hall. Raised voices, numerous and indistinguishable from one another. And then, when she listened more closely, someone crying in a series of choking, hiccupping sobs.

“Something’s up,” she said, pocketing her mobile.

Jules was out of bed now and pulling on a pair of shorts over her underwear. “I swear, if this is another prank from Alison—”

Jess plucked a sweatshirt off her desk chair, zipped it up, and threw open the door. In the hall, their two neighbors who lived across from them were clutching each other as if their lives depended on it, and one had her eyes squeezed tightly shut while tears rolled down her face.

“What’s happening?” Jess asked to the less visibly emotional of the two before them.

The girl who wasn’t crying—Brenda, Jess was pretty sure that was her name—pointed down the hall. “The TV. Watch the TV,” she said, her voice quavering so precipitously that she sounded as if she was going to break into pieces at any moment.

Wordlessly, Jess and Jules exchanged a worried look and turned towards the lounge. Jess felt increasingly alarmed with each step they took.

A group of people was clustered two doors down from them, talking in low tones with their heads bent and most of them with varying stages of horror on their faces. As they passed by the huddled group, a boy Jess didn’t know raised his voice suddenly.

“We’re under attack! We’re fucking under attack!” he growled, his face pale and drawn.

They didn’t stop to ask him what was happening, instead continuing on towards the lounge. A crowd was spilling out of the doors, and for a moment, Jess thought they wouldn’t even be able to get in. But then, as they approached, the crowd parted silently, leaving a small lane for them to get to the TV. They walked in, and the crowd closed behind them.

The lounge held one of the few TVs available in Graham Hall, an ancient gray box with a screen prone to flickers and sudden losses of signal. Anonymous students from past years had improvised an antenna with a tangled mass of wire on top of the box that was honestly flat-out ugly, and no one was sure if it actually helped the signal—but they were all afraid to touch it for fear of making the signal worse. However, today, the image on the screen seemed crystal-clear as Jess and Jules stared at it.

Two gray skyscrapers that seemed dimly familiar to Jess, with clouds of thick black smoke pouring out from both. Stark red letters on the bottom of the screen spelled out the words “AMERICA UNDER ATTACK,” and below that, a scrolling crawl spat out sentences Jess couldn’t bring herself to follow.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

No one replied. But then the screen flashed, and suddenly only one building was on fire, the other pristine, unharmed. Before Jess could even begin to comprehend the reversal, an airplane emerged from the edge of the screen and smashed into the untouched building, erupting into a massive fireball that engulfed the width of the tower. Someone screamed, but the utter lack of reaction from everyone else suggested that this was not the first time this had been replayed.

“They hit the Pentagon. They hit the Pentagon with another plane,” someone behind them said, not to them or anyone in particular, but just in an expression of shell-shocked disbelief.

Jules turned around. “Sorry, what’s the Pentagon?” she asked.

The boy to whom Jules addressed the question turned a dangerous shade of red, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

“You don’t know the Pentagon, you fucking bitch? What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking—”

“Shut up! She’s British!” someone behind him hissed.

“Well, fucking learn it, then,” the boy said, barely mollified.

Jules turned back around without responding, but she did mutter “fucking tosser” under her breath so quietly that only Jess heard.

They watched in stunned silence, the tones of the newscaster melting into an uneasy background noise. And then, slowly, Jules wrapped an arm around Jess’s shoulder. Jess followed suit. They stood together, unconsciously leaning against one another, each preventing the other from collapse.

What Jess would remember in the following months and years was just how quiet it became. It seemed that most were beyond even crying. They all stood in a huddled mass, watching and waiting, unable to tear their gaze away from the endless smoke on the fuzzy screen. It was as if they were all collectively holding their breath. What were they waiting for? Something to happen? What was that thing?

Something did happen. At first, it just looked like another little puff of smoke coming out of the building on the left. And then it grew and grew and grew, billowing outward into a giant black cloud that enveloped the building and—

“Oh, God,” Jules whispered. “It’s collapsing.”

The spell broke. Almost all at once, a thousand conversations broke out, frantic and disjointed and overlapping.

“My dad is—”

“My sister isn’t—”

“They’re saying that—”

“Islamic terrorists—”

“Fucking towel-heads.”

The last phrase, spoken quietly but viciously by the same boy who’d berated Jules, sent a chill down Jess’s spine. She’d never heard anyone say it out loud before. But she had seen it written once. Long ago, almost to the edge of her memory, she’d seen it written on a low wall in London, walking with her mother and father. She remembered neither the destination nor where they were coming from—only this moment in time, seeing the letters scrawled out in black spray-paint. She had asked her father what it meant. And her father’s only response was to tighten his grip on her hand and pull her closer to him.

Now Jess remembered her father. Her father who worked in an airport. Her father who worked in an airport and wore a turban. Her father who worked in an airport and wore a turban and was not Muslim. Her father who worked in an airport and wore a turban and was not Muslim and was surrounded by people who did not understand that.

Suddenly, Jess felt infinitely, despicably grateful that she had not been the one who asked what the Pentagon was.

Her phone began to vibrate again in her pocket. She straightened, extricating herself from her embrace with Jules, and reached for it. It was her mother calling again.

She had to pick up. But she wasn’t ready to hear the fear in her mother’s voice, the worry. Jesminder Bhamra was good at burying her emotions deep inside her where no one would ever notice them. But her mother, her mother seemed to take those very emotions inside Jess and make them manifest in her own behavior, a cruel mirror. When Jess felt anger, it was her mother who scowled ferociously. When she felt sorrow, it was her mother who let the tears flow. And when she felt fear…

She was about to discover what fear looked like in herself.

——

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_September 11, 2001_ **

**_4:45 P.M._ **

Dead silence surrounded Jess and Jules as they made their way down Sapphire Hill toward the pitch. The streets bisecting the campus were devoid of human activity. The only reminder that they weren’t the only persons in the world was the distant buzz of traffic on the nearby motorway.

“Think there’ll be anyone else there?” Jules asked, shifting her equipment bag from one shoulder to the other. They were fifteen minutes late.

“Dunno. Feels like everyone’s been on the phone with their parents all day.”

“Except me.” Jules gave her a sardonic smile. “What happened with your mom, anyway?

It sounded pretty heated.”

“My mother wanted me to come home. We had a fight.”

Well, calling it a flat-out _fight_ was a stretch. Between all the nearly incoherent wailing from her mother and Jess’s inability to get more than a sentence out at a time due to a crushing tightness in her chest, they’d barely had any room to disagree. Instead, Jess had simply let it all wash over her, letting her mother work through her anguish while trying to inject common sense (“I’m four thousand kilometers away from New York, mom. I’m safe”) that she didn’t really believe herself, and then finally she’d ended the conversation rather abruptly by reminding her mom of how much this long-distance call was costing them.

Oh, the irony of Jess having to be the one bringing common sense. That was probably the last time she’d been able to deal well with anything that couldn’t be solved with a pass to Jules on the football pitch.

“Wow.” Jules shook her head. “My mom just called to say what an awful tragedy it was and that was it. Said she kept the call short because she’d didn’t want to run up the phone bill anymore than she already had.”

“At least your mom knows that we’re on the other side of the country.” After hanging up, Jess had gone back to her room, curled up in bed, and tried not worry about her father, whose shift at Heathrow wouldn’t be over for another few hours, per her mother’s report.

They were on the edge of the field already, and there were indeed a few of their teammates gathered on the field—Heidi, Dawn, Tiffany. The three of them were statues on the field. Coach, however, was nowhere to be found. The last slanting rays of the evening sun beamed down, giving the faces of the assembled players a golden hue. They turned as Jess and Jules approached.

“No practice today, girls,” Heidi said, her voice flat and lifeless. “Coach showed up, tried to go over strategy, and gave up thirty seconds in because even he couldn’t listen to himself right now.”

Jess nodded numbly and turned to leave. She was only too glad to hear the news. All she wanted to do right now was go back to her room and wait to hear that her father was safe. Her mother had promised her that she’d call back as soon as they knew. That had been twelve hours ago.

And then, unexpectedly, Tiffany burst out.

“How do you know one of your extended family didn’t do it?” she screamed “You people always with your big families and—”

Jess whirled around, her blood roaring in her ears. Tiffany hadn’t addressed her by name, but it didn’t take much guesswork to figure out who she was talking to. And then—

“Tiffany, you idiot!” Dawn hissed, reaching out and smacking her. “She’s a seek!”

“A what?” Tiffany said, her anger barely stymied. Coincidentally, that was the same exact question that Jess was wondering.

“A seek! She’s a completely different religion!”

Oh.

“It’s _Sikh!”_ Jess said, much louder than necessary for the girls two feet away to hear her.

And then, unbelievably, Dawn turned to her. “What? Are you sure? Because my neighbors are seeks and they call themselves seek— ”

“And I’m the one who’s a bloody Sikh so will you both please _shut up!”_ Jess screamed, taking a step forward.

“I’m the one whose dad was in the fucking South Tower this morning and I don’t know if he’s dead or alive!”

And then suddenly Jules was between them, subtly pushing back Tiffany and putting an arm across Jess’s front.

“Jess—come on. Let’s get out of here.”

There were so many directions in which Jess could’ve taken the rest of that evening, but in the end, she chose to listen to Jules and walk away. Because she was tired.

* * *

**_Hounslow, Greater London_ **

**_December 19, 2001_ **

**_9:35 PM_ **

“Ah, fuck, who knows? We’re probably at least a little messed up from that,” Jules said, giving a weak laugh that jolted Jess out of the depths of her memory.

But just as she was about to respond, the back door swung open, and a tall, lean figure stepped out onto the patio. For a brief moment, all Jess saw was a tall, lean figure standing on the patio, a dark figure silhouetted against the light from inside. And then he stepped forth, and angular features revealed themselves in the moonlight.

Joe.

Oh, what Jess would’ve given to be _anywhere else_ right now.

His eyes fell on them. “Oh,” he said, moving forward a half-meter. “I was wondering where you two went. Couldn’t find you inside. Thought maybe you’d skipped out to the park down the way to get a little practice in or the like.”

Jess made no move to reply. Neither did Jules, who seemed suddenly frozen next to her. Honestly, she didn’t know what to say.

A smile flitted across Joe’s face, and he leaned an elbow against the little stone wall that separated paving stones from grass. “I just wanted to congratulate you two. Incredible. Still can’t believe it.”

Oh. Jess relaxed slightly. If they were going to stick to football, that was fine. “Thanks, Joe,” she said. “Couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

“I know.” Joe smirked. “Guess I’m not too bad a coach, since two of my former players just won the American national uni championship. And you’re not even the best I’ve coached.”

“Hey!” Jules said, snapping out of her apparent daze and raising her voice in mock anger. “Who do you think’s better than us?”

“I’ll take Mel any day,” Joe said. There’s a reason she’s captain, not you!”

“I _chose_ not to be captain!”

“Sure you did. Same way I chose to bust my knee.”

They all laughed easily at that, and for one moment, they could act like no time had passed since their last match together, like all the things currently unsaid between them were just melting away.

“I thought you’d be living it up in there. The prides of the nation,” Joe said, shaking his head with a rueful smile.

“I got tired,” Jess said by way of explanation. She left it at that.

“Hm,” Joe said. He looked back at the party for a moment before setting his shoulders and looking directly at Jess.

“Hey, Jess?”

“Yeah?” She had a good idea of what was coming. Next to her, she sensed Jules tensing ever so slightly.

“If it was anything I did, I’m sorry.”

There it was. Jess took a deep breath. “No, Joe,” she said softly. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Guess I should’ve expected it.” Joe gave her a rueful smile. “Long-distance stuff never works out.”

“I’m sorry. Stuff… happened.”

Joe waved off Jess’s words. “Really, I’m not sore about it. I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t hurt you.”

A knot that Jess didn’t even realize had been in her chest began to unloosen, and she gave him the first real smile of that evening. “Thank you.”

“Scrimmage tomorrow? I need to see how much better you two have gotten.”

They both nodded in response.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Afternoon, please,” Jules added. “I won’t be awake before noon, I’m sure.”

“Three o’clock. Meet me at your old stomping grounds if you’re not too high and mighty to return.” Joe gave them a searching look before turning and and opening the door. “I’ll see you guys around, then,” he tossed over his shoulder before disappearing into the house.

“Still can’t believe you broke up with him,” Jules murmured. “He’s everything you’re supposed to have in a boyfriend.”

Jess only shrugged in response

In hindsight, she should’ve realized that her relationship with Joe had been doomed from the moment when she broke away during their first kiss to try and catch a glimpse of David Beckham. Of course, it wasn’t that simple, and she hadn’t known anything of what was to come. It had started out in early August when she first arrived on campus for football camp with a nervous, hyperactive optimism in which she felt like anything was possible. It did not last. It would turn out to be just one in a series of collapses of things she once thought were immutable and irreversible. When this fell, its aftershocks spread through the rest of the fall. It was only fitting that it was in aftermath of the attacks that the first cracks appeared.

——

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_September 11, 2001_ **

**_11:40 PM_ **

Jess wanted to call Joe. She wanted to call him and hear his voice and she wanted to tell him that America didn’t feel much different than Britain and she just wanted to feel some sort of happiness again. But she couldn’t call Joe until her mother called and told about her father. She couldn’t risk missing that call.

So she sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the mobile, which she’d set upright on the edge of her nightstand, and she waited for the display to light up in its cool blue. Time passed. Jules had brought her dinner in a takeaway container from the dining hall. She didn’t remember what she’d eaten. Neither of them could sleep.

And then, quite unexpectedly, there came a knock on the door. Jess and Jules exchanged a curious glance, and then Jules opened it to the sight of the entire football team crowding the hallway around their door.

Panic started rising in Jess as she realized just how many people were outside her door, and a million nightmare scenarios started rushing through her mind—she was about to be kicked off the team—they were here to beat her up—

“Jess! Jules!”

That was the chirpy tones of Alexandra, the team captain, standing front and center in front of the door. “It has come to our attention that there was something of a disagreement between you two and Dawn and Tiffany this afternoon.”

Jess rose to her feet. “Look, whatever—”

Alexandra held up her hand, silencing Jess. “We have gathered here as a team to resolve your conflict. Our season starts in three days. We absolutely cannot have any bad blood on this team at the start of the season. The fights come later, when we’re balls-deep into the playoffs and we’re so strung out we can’t even _think_ about each other!”

A titter spread through the group at those words, but Jess didn’t dare to respond.

“And, come on,” she said, her face growing serious. “After what’s happened today, it’s more important than ever that we’re united as a team. If you guys were going to pick a day to have an argument, you picked a good one. Because we get to combine conflict resolution with—” she leaned in, sticking her head into their room for added effect—“ _Freshman orientation._ ”

It was only then that Jess noticed what they were wearing. Most of the team was in pajamas and sneakers, but Dawn and Tiffany and the one other freshman (a word that Jess still thought was stupid) on the team were in full kit, cleats and all.

“Get your gear on, girls. You’ve got a little challenge to fulfill before you get any sleep.”

Jess looked back at her still-silent mobile, but it was Jules who spoke first.

“Suppose we don’t want to do this?”

“Jules, Jules, Jules.” A wide grin spread across Alexandra’s face, and she stepped fully into the room. But it wasn’t Jules she spoke to next—instead, she sauntered over to Jess and laid a hand on her shoulder, looking directly into her eyes without her smile ever wavering. “This isn’t really optional.”

——

“In case the freshmen who still get lost on campus don’t know where we are, we’re standing on the football field. And I’m talking about _American_ football, Crumpet and Curry.”

The fact that being called that offhandedly barely registered on Jess’s radar really drove home just how horrible a day this had been.

Alexandra was standing atop the first row of bleachers, addressing the assembled mass of players on the turf. “But we’ll be using it for a bit of _our_ football,” she continued. “Well, the freshmen will be using it. We’re going to watch. And what will the freshmen do? Well—simple.” She reached into the equipment bag she’d been carrying and produced a football.

“You’re going to get this football through those goalposts—” she pointed at a bizarre structure at the end of the field, something that looked like uncooked spaghetti glued together—“From the fifty-yard line. For our metric friends, that’s the big white line in the middle of the field between the two number fifties.”

“The rules are as follows. You cannot let the ball touch the ground once it’s kicked from the fifty-yard line. However, you may kick it, head it, chip it, from anywhere in the field in order to get it through the goalposts. You have no limits on how many times you can make contact with the ball. So it will be to your advantage to work together in order to figure out a good arrangement to boot it into the goal. This requires cooperation. And in this case, also _reconciliation.”_

“You will have three tries. If you get it through on the first try, none of you have to do anything. Get on the second try—you have to run ten laps around the field. Get it on the third try, and you’ll be running twenty laps. If you don’t get it at all—thirty laps. I suggest you pace yourselves if such a thing occurs.”

“All right, girls. Go plan it out. Take all the time you need.” Alexandra lobbed the ball to Jess, who caught it silently.

“Oh, and one more thing you should know,” she added, baring her teeth. Its appearance suggested that it hadn’t been intended as a smile at any point in its formation. “Nobody’s ever gotten it through the posts on the first try. Good luck!”

Jess looked at Jules, who looked back at her. And finally, Jess resigned herself to whatever fate this would bring her. They slowly walked out to midfield, joining Dawn and Tiffany. There was an uncomfortable silence, each of them refusing to fully look at each other. It gave Jess a tiny bit of satisfaction to see that Dawn and Tiffany didn’t look extremely pleased with one another—that smack from Dawn hadn’t exactly been friendly, it seemed. And they both looked like they wanted to be there about as much as Jess and Jules did.

“So…” Dawn said.

“So…” Tiffany said.

“So…?” Jules said.

“I’m kicking,” Jess said.

No one protested. Instead, Dawn and Tiffany simply nodded before jogging off down towards the goal. Jules hesitated

“Jess—” she began.

Jess raised an eyebrow.

“Send it.”

With that, she trotted off downfield. Jess placed the ball on the line and trotted backwards a few steps. She stopped, considered, and backed up a few more. Jules and the others were in a loose formation near the goalposts. She was tired. She wanted to go back to her bed and lie there under the covers waiting to hear from her family.

If she closed her eyes, she could visualize it—running up, bringing her leg back and releasing all of the pent-up emotions of the day in one powerful kick to the ball, sending it soaring into the night sky, watching it grow smaller and smaller until it was just a little white star, and then that star would fall to earth in a tumbling descent between the goalposts. A single kick. _Her_ kick.

She raised her head. Considered the three girls downfield, rendered tiny and bleak by the desolate glare of stadium lights. Considered the distance. Considered the still, damp night air with the smell of salt heavy in it.

And then she broke for the ball, closing in on it with a singular intent—

Which was to trot up to it and lightly tap its underside with her foot, nearly digging her cleat into the turf, sending the ball straight up, just a few feet above her head.

She ignored the sudden murmur from the rest of the team, and instead focused on the ball as it came spinning back down to her. She raised her knee and met it perfectly. It bounced back up, coming level with her face and then dropping.

On the next bounce, Jess took a step. And then another. Bounce. Step. Bounce. Step. Bounce. Step.

Slowly but surely, she made her way down the field, crossing one and then two and then three white lines and then she lost count because all of her focus had to be on this ball, keeping it aloft and moving only forward, all of her hours in the kitchen back home bouncing a cabbage off her knee finally coming to bear.

The jeers had turned to shocked silence about a minute in. But as Jess neared the end, her thigh was aching. She hadn’t had a chance to stretch, and she could feel her muscles beginning to tighten up. She wasn’t sure if she had that last kick in her to get it between the spaghetti sticks. But Jules was there, directly in front of the goalpost, beautiful Jules (months later Jess would look back on her thought process in this moment and think, _wait, **what** did I call Jules?_), and Jess knew exactly what to do. It didn’t even need to be said. She gave the ball one last kick, with enough speed and direction to send it in a high arc to Jules, who was waiting. It was probably the easiest header that she’d ever had, and she barely had to jump to send the ball between the yellow bars. Just like that, they’d done it.

Dead silence. Dawn and Tiffany and everyone else not named Jules on the field stared.

And then Tiffany spoke.

“Thank you.”

Jess spun round. “What?”

“Thank you. For saving us from running all those laps. ” Tiffany held out a hand as Dawn nodded in agreement. “We’re good?”

For a half-second, Jess just stared at it. Was… was this meant to be an apology? She had no idea. But… it would have to do. If she wanted to keep playing soccer here.

She shook Tiffany’s hand, and there was something like real gratefulness in the other girl’s expression. But Jess wondered. How much of everything tonight was necessary to see that gratefulness there? A death, a life, what had made the difference in Tiffany’s decision that felt like she saw it as granting mercy?

With that, Jess turned and started to walk out. Unfortunately, the shortest way out of the stadium back to her dorm took her past Alexandra, who’d been jogging down the sideline, watching Jess’s progress with increasing disbelief until she stood even with the goalposts, her mouth open and her hands on her head. That was where she stood now, still frozen as Jess approached. But then a wide smile spread over her face, and she stepped into Jess’s path, stopping her.

“Motherfucker,” she said admiringly. “I might’ve doubted you’d be a good fit on this team, Bhamra, but not anymore. Not fucking anymore. We’re going to have to change the rules for this next year.”

——

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_September 12, 2001_ **

**_5:07 PM_ **

Jess did not tell Joe about “freshman orientation.” She did not tell Joe that that Tiffany’s father turned out alive and safe. She did not tell Joe that “Sikh” was pronounced differently in America than it was in the United Kingdom. She did not tell Joe that her father was fine and that it was just a lockdown at Heathrow, various emergency security protocols, and a desperate need for security personnel due to the flood of flights being turned away from America that’d kept him away from home for so long.

When she heard her father’s voice, she had sobbed with relief. At least, until—

“Jesminder, I think you should come home.”

A cold dread rose up in Jess’s throat. “Why?”

“The American president is saying they will start a war. A war against terrorists. And seems it is very easy for Americans to think that we are terrorists.”

Until today, Jess wouldn’t have ever thought that either of her parents could convince her to leave Santa Clara University. But now… she understood. The tone in her father’s voice suggested that he had encountered something today that gave his words their shape. Just as Jess had.

And some part of her did want to go back. Or at least get away from this. She didn’t want to hear anyone else mumble horrible things behind her. She didn’t want to live in constant fear of strife with her teammates.

But. She was living out her dreams, and she wasn’t about to give that up. If she left, she probably wouldn’t be coming back.

“Can I call you back in fifteen minutes? Okay. Thanks.” Having let her father’s goodbye ring through her ears, Jess hung up and carefully placed her mobile on her bed. She needed advice on what to do. She should’ve asked Joe. She should’ve looked to the person who also understood racial prejudice. She should’ve asked her _own boyfriend._ But she didn’t.

Instead, she asked Jules, because Jules was there with her and Joe was not.

“Sounds to me like both reasons are pretty evenly balanced,” Jules said after hearing Jess lay out the dilemma as she leaned against Jess’s bed. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I could take the tack of saying what all the people in the hall are saying, which is that you should go on with life as normal because doing otherwise means the terrorists have won, but… that’s not really possible, is it?”

“No. No, it isn’t.” Jess flopped belly-down on her bed and gazed out the window at the dim gray sky. Somehow, it was early afternoon. She was… exhausted. It had been _way_ too long since she last slept. “We haven’t even had our first game and I’m already tired.”

“So… what you’re looking for is a tipping point, I take it?”

Jess raised her head to look at Jules. “A tipping point?”

“Some little point that’s small enough you hadn’t considered it yet, but big enough that it’ll tip the scales one way or another so you can make a decision. And I’ve got one.”

“Share!”

Jules put her pencil down and said, “Me.”

“Um, what?”

“I’m staying. I decided that already. If you decide to leave, I won’t try to convince you otherwise because that would be selfish—but I’m just going to say this now and this is the only time I’ll say it: If you go back to Britain, I’ll be alone here and I don’t know how I’d be able to deal with everything if I didn’t have someone I knew and trusted like you here with me.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, Jess felt incredibly ashamed for not being more considerate. Of _course_ Jules wouldn’t be leaving come hell or high water. Hell, if someone set off a nuclear bomb in the basement of Donaldson Hall, she still didn’t think Jules would leave anytime soon. And to leave Jules to face all this alone… Granted, she was having an easier time, but even after a month practicing with this team, they still felt like a two-man unit, back-to-back in the middle of a battlefield and protecting each other. If Jess bailed now… she’d leave Jules exposed.

“I’m staying,” she said, letting herself sink back into the puffy depths of her blanket. A slow smile spread over her face. Decision made. Time to concentrate on not going insane for the next few months.

“Thank you, Jess.” There was genuine happiness in Jules’s voice, and it made her feel even better about her decision. She didn’t need to look to know Jules’s face was lighting up with joy and relief. However, her next words weren’t something Jess was expecting.

“Okay. You’ve got my back. Now how do I get yours?”

“Huh?”

“Well.” Jess leaned over, filling most of Jess’s vision. “I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through. I’m not a target. But I promise I’ll do my damned best to make your time here as easy as possible. What can I do to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay?”

Well. Jess hadn’t expected it, but it wasn’t like she didn’t want it, either. “Honestly?” she said, inspecting the grooves in the ceiling. “Next time a racist starts yelling at me, help me pummel him into the ground, penalty flags be damned.”

The speed with which Jules said, “Deal,” would’ve scared Jess if she wasn’t so happy to know Jules had her back.

When Jess finally did call Joe, it was with the disappointing finality of having already figured out what she wanted to do. Aside from a few token comforting words and expressions of horror, nothing of importance was said about what happened on the eleventh. Which meant they actually didn’t have much to talk about during that call. All of the cautious optimism from before vanished, replaced by. Which set a pattern for a downward spiral.

It was caused by several things. There was Jess’s decision not to tell Joe about any of these things that had happened and were happening to her because of the simple fact that he could not be there or do anything, and she did not wish him to be just a spectator of her life.

There was also the communication. Letters two weeks behind the times, phone calls interrupted by Jess’s struggles to calculate how much time was left on her plan or by operators asking for someone to deposit ten cents to continue the call—there was only so much they could do to communicate and it wasn’t working out great. And her mental image of Joe was becoming curiously translucent, as if it was slowly dissipating. When she first noticed this, she asked Joe to send her a picture of him in the mail. It did not help. Instead, it seemed to accelerate the disappearance, as if suddenly given a picture of Joe, her mind knew exactly what to flee the farthest from.

There _had_ been a spark, but it was fully extinguished by the time in late October when Jess called Joe, said, “Joe, I think I need to break up with you,” and then hung up in a panic because she couldn’t believe she could do what she’d just done.

* * *

**_Hounslow, Greater London_ **

**_December 19, 2001_ **

**_9:43 PM_ **

From somewhere deep in the Paxtons’ house, a roar rose up. Through the windows, it appeared at several people were either having convulsions, or trying to do some sort of victory dance.

“What was _that?”_ Jess asked, staring at the celebration. “What’s happening?”

“When I left the room, they had the Manchester United-Liverpool game on,” Jules said. “If I had to guess, someone just scored a goal.” 

“WOOO! BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM!”

“I would guess,” Jess added as the yell echoed around the backyard, “That David Beckham has just scored a goal. I still wish I could be like him.” Then she cracked a smile. “But don’t let the soccer team hear that, though.”

When Jules didn’t reply immediately, Jess looked over and saw her staring with wide eyes. “What?” she asked. “Did I say something?”

“Did you just say… _soccer?”_ Jules said in hushed tones. “You did! You said it!”

“What? No, I—oh no. I did. I did, didn’t I?”

“You said ‘soccer.’ The Ponytail Squad is assimilating you!”

“Oh, god…” Jess cringed at the thought. “Football, football, football, football, football, football, _football_ …” she repeated, trying to drive the other word out of her head. “I can’t make that mistake ever again.”

“There’s only one thing that can save you now.”  
“What’s that?”

“You’re going to have to go with me up to my nan’s cottage up in Herefordshire and she’s going to make you a cup of her world-famous tea. It’ll put the British right back in anybody.”

Jess shrugged. “Either that, or I’ll just go spend some time with my extended family. They’ll squeeze the American out of me faster than you can say ‘aloo gobi.’”

“Really, though. Even if not to get the Union Jack tattooed on your forehead, we should go up there just to meet my nan. You’d love her.”

“Before we go back?”

“Yeah, we’ve got loads of time, don’t we?”

“Jules?”

“Yeah?”

“The last time I met a non-Sikh friend’s gran, she wouldn’t stop talking about A Passage To India. I think she thought it was the only way she could relate to me.”

“Oh god, no,” Jules said, laughing. “Mine’s harmless. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Good. I’ll see when I’ve got a day.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

They were silent for a moment before Jess spoke up. “You can’t ever tell the team that I said soccer. They’ll start trying to force-feed me cheeseburgers.”

“Hate to say it, but I think it’s working. I apparently lost half my accent this fall, because when I came home and started talking, my mom looked like she’d just seen me strangled with an American flag.”

“Same. My parents wanted more than anything for me to have a proper British accent. You should’ve seen the looks on their faces when I came home and asked for a glass of water for the first time. Oh, and I got startled walking out of the airport seeing cars driving on the right side of the road.”

“You mean the left side?”

“No, I mean the right side. The proper side.”

“But how is one side more right than the other? They’re just sides.”

“Believe me, the left side of the road is more right.”

“But what _makes_ it more right?”

“Because if you drive on the right side of the road, it’s harder to make left turns. Which isn’t right.”

“But if you drive on the left side of the road, it’s harder to make right turns. Which also isn’t right.”

“Fuck, are we really having this conversation right now?” Jess said, flopping onto her back. “Who needs alcohol? We’re loony enough as it is.”

Jess stopped, and realized something. “…I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

“Point is, driving rules are nonsense.” Jules shook her head. “I hate to say it, Jess, but we’re fighting a losing battle. Four more years there and we’ll have forgotten this country exists. It’s not like they try to help us remember. Remember the poster?”

“Don’t remind me,” Jess said.

Unfortunately, they never needed to be reminded of that poster, because neither of them had forgotten it. It had remained in the forefront of both their minds as the first glimmer of something terrifyingly beautiful.

——

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_August 5, 2001_ **

**_5:25 PM_ **

Getting dressed after their first day in the locker room, Jess took a moment to tape a little glossy photo of David Beckham to the door. It wasn’t quite the all-seeing eyes she had above her bed, but it would do for now. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t do at all for some people.

“What is THAT?”

Jess turned around to see Alexandra looming behind her, staring at the picture of David Beckham with the same expression as someone confronting a rotten fruit in the supermarket. “Erm… David Beckham,” she replied, somewhat surprised. Did she really not—

“Yes, I know who he is,” Alexandra said, sounding as if she was admitting to a malicious crime. “He’s also a _man.”_

“Is there something wrong with that?” Jules asked, jumping into the conversation.

“No. It’s your locker. You can put whatever you want in there, but wouldn’t you rather put…” she gestured wildly, and then lowered her voice, leaning towards Jess and Jules. “…A woman?”

“I suppose I could? But I guess I’m more a fan of David Beckham? He’s the biggest thing in Britain right now—”

“Ohhh. I see!” Alexandra’s tone abruptly pivoted into something resembling… pity? “You British girls don’t have any role models.”

“Say what?”

“It’s simple! Because there are no real organized womens’ sports in your country yet, you had to resort to cheering for men to fuel your pride for the game!” Alexandra turned and marched over to her locker. “Well, fear not, because I have the answer to your prayers!”

“What?” Jess said as Alexandra pulled out a rolled-up poster and a roll of tape.

“Our lord and savior Brandi Chastain!”

When Jess and Jules reacted only with blinks, Alexandra spun around and fixed a stunned look on them. “Don’t tell me you don’t know who she is!”

“I’ve heard of her, but… who exactly is she again?” Jules asked.

 _“How_ have you not heard of her? She’s the author of _the_ greatest moment in the history of women’s sports!”

“Which is…?”

“Oh, for the love of—” Alexandra smacked her forehead. “The nineteen ninety-nine FIFA Women’s World Cup? Does that ring a bell?”

Jess looked at Jules. Jules looked at Jess. They both shrugged.

“Kinda?” Jess said. “There was no British team in it, so I didn’t really keep track of it? Besides, it was right during my cousin’s wedding up in Manchester, so I didn’t really get to see too much of it—”

“Me too. I didn’t really see the point of watching it without anyone I could root for, you know?”

Alexandra stared at them, shaking her head as she affixed the top edge of the still-rolled poster to the wall with tape. “We have so much work to do with you guys. And your re-education starts now. Behold!” she said, unrolling the poster with a flourish. “Your new idol!”

Jess and Jules stared.

It was a poster of a female soccer player wearing a sports bra, kneeling in the grass, her eyes shut, her mouth wide open in a silent shout, her arms raised in celebration, her jersey clutched in her hands.

Jess opened her mouth to say something and then shut it, realizing she didn’t really have the ability to form words at the moment.

“Now _that’s_ more like it! Our leader…” Alexandra fell silent, apparently waiting for a reply. When she didn’t get one, she reached out and poked Jess in the shoulder. “Hello? Earth to Brit One?” When that didn’t get a response, she continued:

“Okay you two, quit lezzing out. It’s just a poster. We’ll all be getting naked in this locker room, so get used to it.”

 _That_ broke the spell. Jess turned away so suddenly that she nearly fell over. She didn’t know how she managed it, but she avoided blushing.

What Jess didn’t see was Jules having a nearly identical reaction, from the stunned gaze to the speechlessness all the way to the abrupt disengagement and frantic suppression down of a blush.

For both of them, this experience marked a sort of singularity when their eyes and minds, unfettered by the expectations that surrounded them in more familiar territory, discovered a new sequence of thought and feeling. None of what was displayed on the poster was actually new to them, but it was the first encounter with no family members, no friends, no gossipy community of neighbors and acquaintances of parents, none of that there to instantly remind them that, while there was nothing theoretically wrong with this sort of thing, it was something Not To Be Pursued By Actual People We Know. Instead, this was new, untested ground they were in, where they knew nobody and there were also no familiar things holding old memories that could serve as a reminder of those they knew and the lessons that they served.

Yet there was nothing special about this place called Santa Clara, either. The awakening of Jess and Jules would’ve happened anywhere where there was nothing that recalled home. Furthermore, this place presented its own series of challenges to the awakening that could not be found elsewhere.

Their main enemies in the fight for the way forward were now their own minds, conditioned by years of living in the world where being gay was something Not To Be Pursued. And your mind wasn’t something that you could jump on a plane to get away from. Football, for the most part, would not provide a way forward—only a postponement of the truth, an escape from reality. This was an environment that rewarded confidence and , which Jess and Jules would rapidly begin to lose. Finding themselves in such an unfamiliar, unknown, and proud environment meant that Jules and Jess had no one to confide in, no one to turn for guidance. They were, for all intents and purposes, alone.

* * *

**_Hounslow, Greater London_ **

**_December 19, 2001_ **

**_9:58 PM_ **

Jess couldn’t help but giggle at the memory of that poster. It was crazy, how many things it had set off in her own life.

“What’s so funny?” Jules asked, plucking a blade of grass from the ground.

“Well, I was just thinking how the poster— _what_ are you doing?”

“Oh, this?” Jules was positioning the blade of grass between her thumbs with an attention to detail that didn’t seem necessary for whatever she was doing. “Watch this.” She raised her hands to her mouth, the back of her thumbs pressing against her lip, and blew. An earsplitting screech emitted from between her hands.

Jess stared. “How did you…?”

“Little trick I learned a few years ago. Here, I’ll show you. Need a nice blade of grass.” Jules bent over and began searching for a suitable blade of grass.

Oh no. Jess was thinking things about Jules again. Bisexual things. Because it was moments like this that it almost _hurt_ her to see how fantastic Jules was.

Since Jules was never, ever going to like her back, she’d developed a defense mechanism for this sort of thing. Every time she started thinking bisexual things about Jules, she started thinking about her mom. For a whole host of reasons: One, it was the one object in her mind that was guaranteed to immediately and mercilessly destroy any… _wants_ that she might suddenly have. Two, it reminded her that just because she was bisexual she couldn’t do bisexual things because she would most certainly not be allowed to do that if asked—yes, she’d dated a white boy, but that was as radical as she could get without her family _immediately_ disowning her. At least with Joe they would’ve had the courtesy to ask a few questions before disowning her. Three, thinking about her mother usually brought on some snide remark from the Voice, which usually killed any remaining enthusiasm she had. She was thinking quite hard about her mom right now. And now here was the legion voice of her relatives:

_Are you ever going to do something about all this, Jesminder?_

Well, that sounded… different… than usual. Less like her relatives and more like something else entirely. Wait. What it’d said could almost be construed as… _encouragement._

Oh, now the one thing she could rely on to give her reality checks was turning against her. Jess nearly groaned aloud, but then she remembered Jules was there. Speaking of Jules…

“Found one!” Jules held out the newly discovered grass. “Here, hold out your hands. I’ll show you how to do it right.”

Jess obliged, and Jules took her hands, molding the angles of her thumbs into a peculiar formation. Jess started to think very hard about her mother and not at all about the fact that Jules was holding her hands and they were very soft and sinewy—

Just a little too quickly, Jules asked, “Sowhatwereyoulaughingatbeforewiththeposter?”

But then a new voice cut in. “Hey, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

They jerked apart, Jess losing the grip on her blade of grass and Jules nearly falling over backwards in her haste to back up. Whoever had spoken _had_ , in fact, interrupted. Jess sighed and looked up at whoever the latest intruder to their little backyard hangout was. “Why does everyone have to—” she started, only to stop short when she saw who was on the patio now.

“Tony!” she said delightedly.

“Jess! Jules! Am I glad to see you guys again! Congratulation on the championship!”

“Thanks! …Want to come out here? There’s plenty of room on the grass.”

Rather abruptly, Jess realized this was… the first time they had talked since their midnight call. But… why exactly did that matter? Tony, more than anyone else on the premises, was likely to accept her. Already had, in fact. There was nothing searching or probing in the look he gave her, just honest jubilation that she was back.

“No, sorry… wish I could.” Tony gave them an apologetic look. “But I’m just stopping in on my way to another Christmas party next town over. I just wanted to stop in and say hi to you guys. We’ll catch up later?”

“Absolutely. Call me. Who’s at the party you’re going to?”

“It’s a couple guys you wouldn’t know. Friends of friends of the lads at the park after you left for the States.”

Wait a minute. There was something in Tony’s tone that sounded different. And WAIT A MINUTE. Hadn’t he told her not three hours ago that he would be staying in tonight to watch the Manchester United game? Which was the whole basis of her excuse?

“Tony! Does anyone there… play for the other team?” The words were barely out of her mouth before she regretted it with the force of a thousand suns. If she wasn’t so busy kicking herself, she would’ve tried to get a photo of the look on Tony’s face.

_“What?”_

“You know… the other team that we were always playing against in the park! Those guys,” she said, while simultaneously shooting sideways looks at Jules and trying to put the right amount of weighted curiosity in her face.

Weighted, because Tony knew damn well that there was no other ‘team’ that they’d ever played against in the park—it was always just her, him, and his mouthbreathing friends. So, hopefully, he would pick up on what she meant.

He did. A slow smile of understanding spread across Tony’s face.

“Yeah, I think there might be a few… that’s why I was going.” He gave Jess a look that might’ve been the world’s fastest wink.

“I’m just glad… I’m just glad that you’re being yourself,” Jess said. Silently, she was begging Babaji with every fiber of her being to have Tony _not_ call her out for her utterly massive, world-collapsing, mind-bending hypocrisy. Unfortunately, he would be incredibly justified in doing so.

Thankfully, either Babaji was listening or Tony understood exactly what was going on, because he only gave Jess a thumbs-up before heading back in.

Good god. He’d been willing to marry her five months ago. Jess was never more thankful that she’d refused. Not because she was suddenly more interested in girls, but because Tony was just someone she flat-out did not feel _any_ attraction to.

And Tony… Tony might actually be acting on his sexuality now. Jess didn’t know what to think about that. He’d clearly known about it for longer. Would he… actually… well, marry? Marry someone he wanted to? Maybe. It was a better time than any other in history to be gay.

Suddenly, a little part of her felt guilty. She could just… stick to men if she wanted to. And that would be fine. Because she was attracted to them. Unlike Tony. He didn’t have a choice. And she felt bad for that. It almost made her _want_ to exclusively date women, if she wasn’t so terrified of that.

Oh, well. At least it didn’t look like Jules had caught onto what she’d not-so-subtly implied.

——

Tony was gay, and Jules was an idiot.

How had she not seen it _sooner?_ It seemed so obvious in hindsight. How long had he known that about himself? Was it something that _oh dear lord he was actually maybe seeing someone and maybe gay people weren’t doomed to be alone forever—_

Never mind that, what was Jess thinking, asking Tony about ‘the other team?’ Jules had been doing _research_ into all the euphemisms and double-meanings out there. _The other team._ Honestly, what did Jess think of her if she thought she could get away with saying that in front of her?

Wait. What _did_ Jess think? Maybe… Jess was someone that Jules could tell? Even though she was definitely not into girls and she would probably get mad at Jules for all the grief over Joe. She could see Jess’s furious face now, her mouth spitting venomous words. _You got mad at me over a boy you didn’t even feel anything for? I hate you. It was probably me that you were into. You sick fuck._

The worst part was, Jules wouldn’t be able to deny any of it. She was just as angry at herself for it all.

But then again… Jess _had_ wanted Tony to be her boyfriend before she found out he was gay. And Joe was buried deep now. So… maybe she wouldn’t react all that badly to her. She wanted someone to know. She just wanted someone to know.

“Jules?”

Jess’s soft, worried voice snapped Jules out of her anxieties. And then a soft, warm hand settled on her shoulder. Jules nearly jumped out of her skin at the touch.

“You’re shivering.”

Jules felt as if she was standing alone at the edge of a very tall cliff, looking down into a void that seemed to go down and down and down into a gaping maw of nothingness. But she knew what was behind her, and she didn’t want to go back. She was so very alone right now. If there was anyone or anything down there, she was going to find out _now._

“Jess…” she began slowly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

——

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_October 23, 2001_ **

**_9:15 PM_ **

Jules forgot about the poster. At least, she did until the next day when she walked back into the locker room to change and saw Brandi Chastain again. She stopped, looked at it, wondered why she was looking at it so much, wondered harder, thought, _wait…_ and then thought _nah…_ and promptly buried it for two months. It wasn’t until one mid-October night in the dorm room that she paid any attention to it again, and what brought it on was Jess closing her biology textbook with a _thump_ and saying this in a shaky voice:

“I think I might break up with Joe.”

Jules, who had been using Jess’s side as a backrest, shot up, nearly upending the bowl of popcorn in her lap. “You’re _what?!”_

“I don’t know...” Jess sounded lost, scared as Jules repositioned herself directly across from her. “I feel as if I’ve lost all the attraction I had to him.”

“What do you mean? You used to be absolutely crazy for him.”

“Well… I _was,_ but I don’t think I am anymore….” Jess suddenly picked up steam. “Objectively, yes, I can see that he’s the perfect boyfriend? He’s respectable and he’s hot and we’re both mad about football, but…” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Three months ago, I looked at all that, and my response was, ‘oh yes.’ But last week, I really _thought_ about him again, and I just thought… ‘okay.’

 _“Okay?_ He’s _okay?”_

“I don’t know!” Jess groaned, her voice rising. “I talk to him on the phone and my reaction is just ‘Yes. This is a person who’s my friend. He has commendable qualities and experiences that mesh well with me. Is there supposed to be something more?’ And I _know_ that’s not how romantic relationships work!”

Jules stared at Jess, her mouth slowly falling open. “Er…” Suddenly, her shock at Jess’s admission was being completely overtaken by a completely different shock.

“That’s how romantic relationships… _aren’t_ supposed to work?” Oh god, had she really just asked that?

Thankfully, Jess was too swept up in her own dilemma to notice just how odd Jules’s question was. “No! No, it isn’t! There’s supposed to be something else, and it was there when we first kissed! I _wanted_ him! But I don’t anymore!” She tossed her pencil aside and stood up. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Jules stared at the door as it closed behind Jess. A very stunned realization was flooding her mind.

What Jess had just described as one-hundred-percent _not_ love was what Jules had thought love was for her entire life.

No one had ever bothered to explain to her what love was supposed to feel like. Sure, she had _asked,_ asked _plenty_ as a child what love was supposed to feel like, but her parents had always given her the same wink and a smile and a ‘you’ll understand when you get older’ that turned out to be a lie. When she started asking her friends about it, they were just as clueless as she was. So Jules had decided that the definition of love must be finding a boy who would be a perfect fit for her.

None of her friends seemed to have any trouble finding the perfect boy. But Jules could never find anyone who perfectly measured up to her standards, which of course had driven her mother up the wall.

She’d wondered, was it that her own standards were too high? But she couldn’t settle for anything less than perfect, because that was love. Was it something wrong with herself that was keeping her from finding The One? That second doubt had wormed its way into her mind and made itself quite comfortable over the years. Until she met Joe.

Joe was the one person who checked off every box for Jules. Good looks. Could defend themselves if they needed to. Passionate. A sense of humor that matched with hers. Oh, and living and breathing football. The last one was a must. And so she had decided that he was the one to pursue. And as she got to know him at the club and on the pitch and in their houses, she wondered if that was it. It had to be it. She decided that this was what love was supposed to be, and love for whatever reason was just not that exciting.

Jules reached mechanically into the near-forgotten bowl of popcorn, removed a single piece, and placed it in her mouth. She chewed it more slowly than any other piece of popcorn in her life, staring off into nothingness.

She had absolutely no idea of what love actually was.

The door swung open. Jess stepped back in, her eyes red.

Not knowing what else to do, Jules offered her the popcorn bowl. Jess shook her head and went back over to her biology textbook. However, instead of opening it again, she simply placed it on her desk and plopped herself down on her bed.

Jules needed to know more. She needed to know what love really was. Eighteen years, and she still didn’t have answers.

“Jess… you said you _wanted_ Joe before,” she probed, stepping cautiously over what might as well be a minefield for both of them. “What was different then? Compared to now?”

“I wanted Joe. But in a different way than you want friends. It was like there was this special _ache_ in me, and every time I looked at him or thought about him, it got worse and worse until it was almost unbearable. And then when we kissed, it was like… it was like that all ache was turning into… this pure happiness that radiated through me like sunlight. It was… a little scary, but also amazing. It was like he was a magnet pulling me in. I couldn’t stay away. I didn’t want to.”

Jules leaned back, her entire body stiffening. What Jess had just said confirmed her deepest fears. Jules hadn’t wanted Joe. She had never wanted a single boy in her life.

——

Two nights of strict denial later, Jess sat bolt upright in bed, torn from a deep sleep by a sudden epiphany from her subconscious.

“Oh my god,” she said. “That’s how I feel about _Jess.”_

She clapped her hands over her mouth immediately. She had _not_ meant to say that out loud. Had Jess…? She listened closely to the silent room for a few seconds, and then there was a rustling of blankets from the other side of the room. Jess’s groggy voice emerged from the darkness.

“Jules? Did you say something?”

“No, did you hear something?” Jules said immediately, her breath catching in her throat. If Jess had heard so much of a _syllable_ of what she’d just said—

“No, I think it was just somebody in the hallway,” Jess mumbled, rolling over. Within seconds, she was silent again, but Jules was afraid to think in here for fear that one of her thoughts would charge out of her mouth before she could stop it. She scrambled out of bed and began throwing on an outfit.

“What’s going on?” Jess said, sounding as if she’d managed to fall asleep in between this question and her previous one.

“I need,” Jules said, hurriedly zipping up her sweatshirt, “To go for a walk.”

“It’s two in the morning!”

“Thanks. Be back in ten,” Jules said, throwing open the door. By the time she had another conscious thought, she was outside, rapidly inhaling and exhaling the night air and trying not to pass out from the sheer amount of fear coursing through her.

What. The. _Fuck._

A very specific conversation from the past few months leapt to mind.

_“I’m not stupid, you know. And anyway, look at the clothes you wear.”_

_“Mother, just because I wear khakis and play sport does **not** make me a lesbian!”_

Oops. Fuckin’ oops.

Oh yes, she also couldn’t forget the wonderful moment in that conversation when her mother had given proof of her support for lesbians by saying, “I was cheering for Martina Navratilova as much as the next person!”

Her next conversation with her mom would be fun. “Hello? Mom? Guess what? I’m Martina Navratilova.” Cue endless blubbering.

No. There was absolutely no way that she could be a lesbian. If she was, she would’ve known by now! And yet… the way that Jess had described how she’d felt about being in love with Joe… that was _exactly_ how Jules felt about Jess.

She began to walk; she didn’t pick a destination, just a direction to follow until the sidewalk or the world ended.

The ache… it was there almost from start. And Jules still felt it every time she looked at Jules. It was an ache that was unique to Jess. No boy she’d ever looked at had made her feel _that_ way. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She was just deluding herself, right? Besides, it wasn’t like Jules filled every requirement on her checklist, either! Sure, Jess could defend herself if she needed to, and she was passionate, and she had a sense of humor that matched extremely well with hers, and she lived and breathed football, but—good looks? Well, objectively, yes. With her flowing black hair and her thousand-watt smile and those _eyes_ —

Well, Jess may have filled every requirement on her list, but Jess was a girl, so it didn’t count. If Jules went back and looked at everything, surely that would provide irrevocable proof that they Jess was _just_ a friend to her. She’d only taken an interest in Jess in the first place because she was good at football!

Except… she’d been jogging through the park, and Jess hadn’t even been doing anything on her first circuit of the park. It was only when she looped back that she stopped to… Wait, Jess hadn’t been doing anything until AFTER she stopped. Jess had just been standing at the edge of the field. What? What had caught her eye?

Had she stopped to watch the cute girl playing football?

Fuck. Despite the fact that she hadn’t said anything, Jules clapped her hands over her mouth for the second time that night. She had NOT just referred to Jess as cute in her internal monologue. It couldn’t be possible. It… it was her own suspicions of lesbianism that were clouding her mind! Nothing more!

Okay, but once she’d recognized Jess’s talent, that was the end of any hypothetical attraction as her appreciation for her football skills took over! Except… wow, how many times had she sat on that bench in the park thinking, “Wow, I wish this amazing girl was on my team.”

No! Jess was not amazing! Except that she was! But only as a friend! Nothing more!

…She had spent way more time than necessary watching Jules. And she’d seen other girls playing soccer in the park before. This was the first time she’d actually taken an interest in one. A professional sporting interest, of course. Nothing more!

Of course, once she and Jess were official teammates, that was the end of any misplaced feelings she might’ve had… except for all the times that she’d jumped into Jess’s arms to celebrate a goal. Wait. Jess was the only person she did that with. Why did she do that? Well… because… she really liked hugging Jess…

“BECAUSE SHE IS A GOOD FRIEND! I LIKE TO HUG MY FRIEND A LOT! NOTHING MORE!”

God damn it. That would wake up the whole university. Lovely.

But there was irrefutable proof that she was not in love with Jess! It was Joe! Jules had recognized immediately that Joe was in love with Jess. Because Jess was amazing and perfect and pretty and athletic and how could anyone not fall in love with her? Wait. How was that relevant? But never mind that, because she _had_ gotten angry when she saw Jess kissing Joe, she had felt that ache so painfully it made her furious with its existence because how _dare_ anyone besides her kiss… Jess?

Oh.

Oh, dear.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. F—

_BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!_

Jules jumped back onto the sidewalk just in time to avoid the oncoming car as it sped through the spot on the crosswalk she’d just been standing in.

The reality check shocked her mind into silence. Jules stared around, becoming conscious of just how far she’d walked, and drew her sweatshirt closer. It was chillier than it seemed when she left.

She was a lesbian. There. She’d admitted it. She could deal with the ramifications of that tomorrow, when she wasn’t so damn tired. She turned around and began her long walk back. The universe was conspiring against her.

——

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_October 26, 2001_ **

**_6:36 PM_ **

Jess finished pulling her t-shirt over her head and stepped out from behind her locker door. Seeing Jules on the bench behind her, she reached into the repository of questions she had for what she was about to do.

“Jules, do you think I should break up with Joe?”

No response. Okay, fair. That was a hard question to lead off with, and maybe Jules needed a minute to process it.

“I don’t know if I want to hurt him. I mean… he is such a fantastic guy. Maybe I should wait a little longer, until we’re back home for the winter break, to break up with him.”

No response. Understandable. These were heavy questions.

“I mean, maybe if I see him in person I’ll fall back in love with him.”

Still no answer.

“Jules?”

Jules was sitting with her back hunched over and her eyes pointed straight ahead at a fixed point on the wall, which she seemed to be trying to burn a hole through with her vision. It seemed she wasn’t paying attention to her or anything else in the locker room.

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“Well, _she_ didn’t, but I did, I and I think I can help you, Bhamra.”

Oh, no. Charlotte.

“Dump him. Dump him immediately. If you’re not interested in him anymore, what’s the point? He’s just another egoistical boy who’ll easily get over it.”

It wasn’t Jess that responded to the next voice, but Shannon. “WHAT?! NO!”

Oh, no. Shannon.

“How can you dump him?! He’s the hottest thing in existence! Imagine the amazing soccer babies you could create with him! Your child would be like a spicy Brandi Chastain!”

“How can you SAY such a thing!? Bhamra’s more than just breeding stock!”

“But soccer babies!”

“How about soccer adult? As in her? Right here? Right now?”

“You’re just trying to get her to dump him so you can pounce on that hot chin!”

“I MOST CERTAINLY AM NOT—”

As the argument between Charlotte and Shannon began to dissolve into a fistfight, Jess looked over and realized that Jules had left. Huh.

Jess left Charlotte and Shannon still bickering nose-to-nose. Really, it was Jules who she wanted advice from. It didn’t take long for her to find her—she was leaning against the wall outside the locker room, taking deep, slow breaths.

“Jules?”

“Huh?” Jules jerked up in surprise and looked over at Jess. “Oh! Hey Jess! What’s up?”

Did Jules look kind of… _scared_ of Jess? That didn’t make any sense.

“I wanted to ask you if you think it’s better for me to break up with Joe now or later.”

Jules heaved a massive sigh, and then crossed her arms and gave Jess a heavy, indecipherable look. “Honestly, Jess? I think you should follow your heart. And if your heart’s just not in it anymore… you should break up now before it becomes torturous.”

Jess blinked. That was… what she’d been leaning towards. She’d been expecting a long drawn-out discussion with possible allusions to Jules’s own feelings for Joe, but instead, she got… the easiest answer she’d found in a while.

“You know what? I’m going to do that. Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” Jules said, letting her head fall against the wall. “Glad I could help.”

Jess was about to head back into the locker room when she remembered something. “Oh, by the way—”

Jules lifted her head.

Jess winked. “He’s all yours now.”

Jules gave her a smile that looked oddly pained. “Thanks, Jess.”

——

_Don’t touch a girl. Don’t look at a girl. Don’t acknowledge that a girl exists. Don’t even THINK about a girl. Don’t even think about YOURSELF because you’re also a girl._

That was Jules’s method of surviving her first trip to the locker room post-realization. She felt dirty just being in here, like she was an intruder should be kicked out. And, oh god, why did Jess’s locker have to be next to _hers?_ She’d avoided the problem by getting to the lockers early enough to change before everyone and then sitting outside until practice started, but she couldn’t repeat the trick for afterward because Coach didn’t like players staying afterward because he was the one who had to lock up the football locker rooms after every practice. So Jules changed at the speed of light and became very hyperfocused on a tile in the wall opposite her while Jess changed up next to her.

Why was she like this all of a sudden?! God, she’d never had this problem before, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t been a lesbian before! It was just a locker room! Alexandra’s words from the first day of practice echoed cruelly in her mind.

_Quit lezzing out. We’ll all be getting naked in this locker room, so get used to it._

It looked like Jules was going to have to get used to it all over again.

And then, of course, Jess had to talk to her about breaking up with Joe. A month ago, Jules would’ve been all over the topic of conversation. But now? She genuinely wanted them to stay together. So that she wouldn’t have to deal with the cruel hope that would come with Jess being single.

* * *

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_November 1, 2001_ **

**_6:36 PM_ **

Jess was lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the gentle pitter-patter of rain on the windowpanes. Well, she had now been single for three days. Weirdly, it didn’t feel much different. Maybe that was the best sign that she really was ready to move on from Joe. Granted, there had been some tears and some sorrow and some crying into Jules’s shoulder (Jules had been strangely quiet throughout that), but it was all over.

And of course, the team had paid their respects. Whatever she might’ve thought about the team’s bizarre insistence on a constant social lockstep, that did mean that sometimes (not all times) they would come to a team member’s aid with the entire cavalry. All she remembered was a massive group hug with everyone—even Charlotte, for crying out loud—shouting a deluge of emotional support and positive reinforcement. It was scary, but it also kind of worked. There was something strangely empowering about hearing fifteen white girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two bellowing at her that she was beautiful and deserving of any man (Jules had had the _weirdest_ look on her face during that last chant).

But maybe Jess was doomed to end up in the destiny her parents wished for her. A nice Indian boy who passed muster and had a respectable family. And, despite the fact that they were an ocean and a continent apart, it was too easy for her to envision her family’s efforts to get her a boyfriend somehow interfering with her football play at Santa Clara. Unless… unless she found another boyfriend herself.

Was there anyone she was attracted to? No, not really, not after Joe. At least she had a good idea of what her type was. Probably someone who was into football as much as Joe and Jules were. Also, probably someone who was really good at friendly, comforting physical contact, sort of like how she used to share those hugs with Jules and Joe back in Hounslow. Also, someone who was upbeat and encouraging and passionate. A blonde wouldn’t hurt, either. And the same kind of jokes that Jules and Joe used to crack with her on the regular. And—and—

Wait. Wait just a minute. Wait just a bloody minute.

Jess sat up.

“What the _hell,”_ she said to the far wall, very thankful that Jules wasn’t in the room at the moment.

——

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_November 25, 2001_ **

**_4:30 PM_ **

The pass came from Dawn at midfield and Jess turned upfield. She saw something. Maybe not an opportunity, but a chance. Dartmouth had overextended on their last push, leaving a whole lot of room in front of their goal.

Dribble. Dribble. Dartmouth player coming in. She was the farthest upfield. No one next to her to pass it to—she feinted, darting one way and then the other, just barely tapping the ball past the legs of the rushing Dartmouth defender. _Perfect._ The defender had come in too fast, overcommitted, and now she was behind Jess and Jess had a whole lot of open space ahead with only two defenders and the goalie between her and the net. She charged.

One defender, too far off to the left to catch her before the goal, was making a run for her, but the other defender, standing directly between Jess and goal, was her main concern—it was Dartmouth’s best there, playing it carefully. She had to either get the ball past this girl quick or get rid of it, because a second too long and the rest of the Dartmouth backfield would close in on her like a vise.

She closed in on the last defender, readying for another feint, and then out of the corner of her eye, she saw a maroon jersey streaking down the other side of the field ahead of two pursuing Dartmouth girls. Jules.

Jess only saw a glimpse, but it was all she needed to see to know exactly where she was headed and what she was planning. Regardless of whatever was happening off the field, when they played together, they shared a connection with each other, a connection so intimate that something like electricity seemed to flow between them—a shared wavelength that granted a perfect understanding of each other. There was nothing else in the world that mattered beside the two of them and the ball and the goal. Joe had been right when he said she and Jules were a natural pairing. They were a union.

Jess knew what she had to do. She dribbled straight at the last defender now and reared her leg back, making as if she was going to attempt a shot at goal from there—and then at the last second, she turned the point of her foot and kicked it directly sideways.

She and the Dartmouth defender collided and fell, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the ball arcing through the head above the other defender who was only now realizing her mistake in trying to go after Jess, her frantic backpedals useless as the ball soared over her on a collision course with the head of a leaping Jules.

From the ground, with a flawless view of the moment, Jess nearly forgot how to breathe. Jules seemed to be suspended in midair, her lithe body the picture of fluidity, her soft short hair flying around her face as the ball impacted her head, the setting sun bathing her body in a warm glow. She was _beautiful._

On her knees, she stared. Her gaze remained on Jules even when her header sent the ball towards the goal. Jess didn’t see the ball arcing towards the net or the goalie leaping with a hand outstretched or the net shaking or the crowd falling into a frenzy. What she saw was the brilliant smile that blossomed across Jules’s face as the goal scored and Jules’s eyes swinging around to make contact with Jess’s and Jules running full speed towards her, arms outstretched.

Jess _wanted_ Jules.

She wanted to be cradled in Jules’s lean arms, resting her head against the skin of her neck which she imagined to be unimaginably soft. She wanted to never look away from those deep brown eyes. She wanted to hear nothing but her joyful tone for the rest of her life—

Jules came in low and collided her, bowling her over, and they both tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over. When they came to a stop, Jules was on top and looking down at Jess, her face suffused with joy.

For a nanosecond, neither of them said a thing, only staring at each other, breathing heavily, and it was in that moment with Jules’s face filling her vision that Jess felt her fate was well and truly sealed. The world was falling away, and all that remained was Jules.

“You okay?” Jules asked.

What Jess wanted to say was _yes._ And _I love you._

Instead, she settled for the third option: say nothing and crack a weak smile. That was all she could do before the first of their teammates began to dogpile on them.

 _God help me,_ she thought.

And then, in the bitterest of ironies, the collective voice of her relatives—which had been quiet for so long that she was beginning to hope it was finally gone—spoke up.

_Why are you asking God for the answers to your troubles? You made them yourself; you must fix them yourself._

——

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_November 25, 2001_ **

**_10:12 PM_ **

Jules slammed the door of her locker shut and stared at the dull gray metal, full of hateful thoughts toward herself. Oh God, what had she been thinking, tackling Jess like that? To try and protect Jess and herself from her feelings, she’d made the decision that they could never physically touch again. Of course, that really didn’t make her feel good, but that meant it was working, right?

The problem was, she hadn’t been thinking anything after the goal. It was sheer instinct, charged on adrenaline from her goal, that brought her on a collision course with Jess. When they were rolling around on the ground together, there had been one instant before the rest of the team converged on them that Jules looked Jess in the eye and she thought she saw something. A glimmer of want that mirrored her own. In that nanosecond, Jules had wanted so badly to kiss her, just to find out how deep that glimmer went. But then their teammates descended upon them, and the moment was lost under the flood of victory.

Jules was thankful it had been lost, because she knew if she’d actually gone through with it, she would’ve met nothing but disgust, hate, ostracism. The glimmer must’ve been false—a reflection of sunlight her own stupid brain tricked itself into thinking it meant something.

She turned away and flung her sweatshirt at the nearest wall. It flopped harmlessly to the ground, and after a moment, Jules realized rather belatedly that she was going to have to go pick it up.

——

**_Santa Clara, California_ **

**_November 25, 2001_ **

**_10:06 PM_ **

Her mobile wasn’t turning on. Of course it bloody wasn’t. On all of the nights for it to—and that was how Jess found herself in a phone booth down the way from Graham Hall, frantically dialing Tony’s number.

When Tony picked up, Jess said, “Tony,” so quick that she wasn’t even sure if she’d said it or just a sort of guttural gasp, and then she didn’t say anything at all.

“Jess? What is it?” She could hear Tony fumbling around for something, and only then did she realize that it was very, very late at night where he was. Very early, even,

“Jess? Are you there?”

He must’ve figured out Jess was there from the sound of her shallow, frantic breaths, because he kept talking. “What happened? Is everything all right?”

“Tony,” she said again. “ I think.” She stopped. Tried to form the single syllable. Failed. “I think. I’m.” She couldn’t get it out. It was trapped in her mouth, sticking to the edges of her throat and pressing up against her molars, so big and cumbersome that her vocal cords could not make it budge.

“Jess? Jess, are you…” Tony trailed off, processing her words, and then she heard something like a sigh over the line. “Are you—did you—”

Finally, the thing escaped Jess’s mouth, but it wasn’t a word at all, it was a heaving sob that fell out of her lips and into the receiver.

“ _Oh,_ ” Tony said.

“I—I—felt—” Jess said, and that was as far as she got before her mouth forgot to form words, and she fell into a little sort of wailing noise. What stuck out ludicrously in her mind at that moment was that this was _exactly_ the same noise that her mother used to make when she found her hiding out from family gatherings by watching football matches in her room.

“I’m here, Jess,” Tony said gently. “What do you need?”

The words were a lifeline. Jess was seized by a sudden, burning urge to find out just how deep her deviance ran. “Could you tell?” she asked, practically screaming the words at him.

“What?”

“Could you tell that I was gay?”

“I…” Tony again trailed off into silence, and when he came back, the guilt in his tone was all Jess needed to hear.

“Jess, I… I would by lying if I said—”

“How did I tell everyone?” Jess shrieked, her voiced rising octave after octave. “Did I tell the whole world I was a lesbo because I wore hoodies with the sleeves cut off and I kept my hair in a ponytail and I didn’t wear pink and I wore a sports bra and I played football?”

“Jess, no. Nobody else guessed.”

“Then what? Then what? What tipped you off?”

“I didn’t know for a long time. I played football with you for years and I never suspected a thing. It was only last summer that I figured it out.”

“But then—but then—what—how—” Jess faltered and then fell silent, an immense dread rising up in her. She’d hoped desperately, absurdly, that Tony would’ve known for years, that he would’ve known as soon as he set his eyes on her for the first time. But the fact that he hadn’t, that he’d only noticed recently, meant that he’d seen something else, something that terrified her to think about.

“It was when you met Jules.”

Jess’s hand, still holding the phone, drifted away from her ear, and she leaned heavily back against the plexiglass of the booth, her back slowly sliding down the side until she was nearly sitting.

“I saw how you looked at her and I heard how you talked about her and I wondered,” Tony was saying, the sound of his voice faintly reaching Jess’s ears as she stared at the phone.

“You were… gravitating towards her. Like you were a magnet being drawn in. But I didn’t want to say anything after you told me how you felt about Joe.”

“Joe? JOE!” Jess grasped at this new thread with all the desperation of a leaping keeper. “How could I…? I _felt_ Joe.”

She didn’t understand. Joe, his touch, his lips, _had_ made her feel dizzy, untethered. He held her in his arms, and she felt something. Which made her current complete loss of passion for him almost painful.

But Joe had been Jess’s moon, a pale, silvery beauty, and now Jules was the sun, a warm, radiant entity slowly rising higher and higher in her consciousness and slowly blotting out her memory of Joe.

“I can’t be into _both!_ That’s impossible! I’ve got to pick a side, don’t I?”

“What if I said you don’t have to?”

On the edge of complete and utter hysteria, Jess paused. “What?”

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘bisexual,’ Jess?”

“No…?”

“It means you’re into guys _and_ girls. At the same time. You might lean one way or the other a little bit more, but you’re definitely into both.”

“…There’s a name for it?” Jess said, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yep.

“Bisexual,” Jess said slowly, the alien syllables tumbling off her tongue. “It has a name?”

“Yep.” Suddenly, Tony’s voice sounded regretful. “I thought I was bisexual for a while. I did a lot of research to try and convince myself that I was. But really, I was just in denial about being gay. You, though… you should think about it.”

_It has a name._

“Bisexual,” Jess repeated. She rose to her feet, rolling the word over and over in her head. “Thank you.”

“Jess, wait, before you go—”

“What?”

“Did you guys win?”

“What? Oh. Right. The game. The game which we played today.” Jess actually had to stop and think about the actual game, since everything else happening today was taking up all of her working memory. “We won!”

“Score?”

“We had at least one. They had at least zero.” Jess suddenly felt restless, confined in this tiny little phone booth. She slammed the receiver down without waiting for a reply and burst out of the booth, her heart suddenly overflowing. Everything made so much sense now. An answer had come spilling out of the void. All the raging forces in the universe crystallized around her for a single breath, granting for an instant a perfect clarity of soul.

“It has a name,” she breathed to the night sky. “It has a name!”

She was sprinting down the sidewalk, ostensibly heading in the direction of her dorm, but at that moment her feet could’ve taken her anywhere—to San Francisco, back to Britain, maybe even up into the air.

She had a _thing_ which had a _name_ now. And that meant it was _real_ and she wasn’t just someone who was confused. There were other people like her out there.

And then she rounded into a corner and ran headlong into somebody.

All she saw was a football jersey and a flying leg, there was the sound of a smack followed by bright little flashes in her eyes, and then she was lying on the ground looking up at the sky, her head spinning. A voice was repeating her name over and over again.

“Jess? JESS?”

Jess peeled herself off the concrete and came face-to-face with… _Jules?_

“I practically ran you over, I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”

Jess tried to steady her wobbling vision on Jules, but her eyes didn’t seem to want to cooperate at the moment. “I’m fine. I think. I’m really happy right now. Like, really happy.”

“What are you doing here?” Jules asked.

“I could ask the same.”

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“Jess?”

“No, you.”

_“Jess?”_

“Okay, fine. I ran out to the phone booth to call Tony.”

“At _this_ hour?” Jules looked incredibly skeptical. “What were you trying to do, be his alarm clock?”

“No… I just really needed to talk to him,” Jess said, making an attempt to get to her feet and failing miserably. She let herself sink back to the ground and. “And… I’m really happy that I did.” She couldn’t keep a goofy smile off her face as she spoke.

Jules, having gotten upright, offered a hand to her, squinting. “Jess? Are you sure you’re all right?”

Jess swiped at the hand, caught it, missed, and swiped again successfully. “Yeah. I’m just really, really happy right now,” she said as Jules yanked her up.

“Did you hit your head? Do I need to try and do the concussion protocol?” Jules leaned in, scrutinizing Jess’s face. A chill went down Jess’s spine. Their faces were only inches apart. “Your pupils are dilated. I think we should get you to the emergency room. It’s only three blocks away.”

“Yeah, I… stay right there,” Jess mumbled.

“What?” Jules said, her voice pitching upward.

“Nothing. Nothing,” Jess said hurriedly. Sure, she had no idea what she was doing right now, but she had _just_ enough judgment left to know that she should shut up. “Emergency room. Let’s go. See all the doctors.”

“Come on. Lean on me. I don’t want you falling over and hurting yourself even more.”

They set off down the road, Jess leaning heavily against Jules as they walked.

* * *

**_Hounslow, Greater London_ **

**_December 19, 2001_ **

**_10:11 PM_ **

“I’m a lesbian,” Jules said.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of Jess’s mind, there was a crashing sound as a thousand different preconceived notions all toppled at once.

There was someone else like her. Well, not entirely like her—she may be new to this whole thing, but she knew enough to know that lesbians and bisexuals were _not_ the same thing. But Jules thought about girls potentially the same way that _she_ did. And that was… _incredible._

And then Jess began to laugh. Somewhat unbelievably, it was a laugh that became her first action in a post-heterosexual-Jules world where rules didn’t seem to apply anymore. Jules was a lesbian. How many other things had Jess assumed about Jules that would turn out to be patently false?

Maybe… did she a chance?

No. No, it couldn’t be.

However, at the same time, she was doing everything in her power to convince herself she had no chance. And unfortunately, her brain had just found a _very_ good reason why Jules couldn’t be attracted to her even if she was a lesbian.

Because Jules had told _her._ Which meant that she trusted Jess. Trusted her as a _friend._ If Jess had _actually_ been attracted to her, she would’ve been too afraid to tell Jess any of this.

Yes. This made sense. That was what she was going with.

Wait. She was still giggling in a crazed manner that definitely wasn’t making Jules feel any better about this. She stopped herself and laid a hand on Jules’s shoulder.

“Jules. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just…”

“No. It’s fine.” Jules raised her head, tear tracks running down her cheeks. “I get it. I’m the last person you expected it from. The girl who nearly bit your head off for macking on Joe. Juliette, the boy toy who was just waiting for the perfect one to come along.”

“No! No! It’s not that at all! I’m just laughing because… I can’t believe the coincidence.”

“What?”

Well… since Jules wasn’t attracted to her, there was no harm in telling her. Might as well make Jules feel better about her confession. Jess took a deep breath.

Why was she doing this? What did he hope to gain by this? A relationship? It couldn’t be possible. Jules Paxton was not into her, and to think otherwise would be deluding herself.

——

“Jules, I’m bisexual.”

Jules stared at Jess.

_What. What in the absolute hell._

She had to be hallucinating—but sounds weren’t hallucinations—fine, then her ears had to be hallucinating—but no. Jess had said it. She’d really said it.

In another world, hearing Jess admit that she was into girls would’ve been cause for celebrations of biblical proportions from Jules. But this very admission, the one which was so briefly bringing all her subdued desires roaring back to life, would also kill them once and for all. Because this meant Jess _couldn’t_ be attracted to her.

Jess clearly felt safe enough around Jules to come out. If Jess had actually been attracted to her, she wouldn’t have told Jules. She would’ve been afraid. So there was no chance with her.

But this was good! Jules had someone to talk to now! Someone someone she could whisper her deepest, darkest secrets to without fear of retribution, someone who could whisper her own secrets right back to her, her hot breath ticking her ear as she spoke in a sultry voice—

Stop. Nope. Nope. NOPE. She wasn’t going there.

“You… are?” she asked Jess. God, she hated how hopeful her voice sounded.

“I am. Didn’t start realizing it until… until…” Jess trailed off, deep in thought. “Jules?” she said finally, her voice oddly… tickled?

“Yeah?”

“Did the poster—did that poster—tip you off?”

Oh, no. It HAD. Jules nodded slowly in reply.

“No way! I began to question my sexuality only after I saw that poster,” Jess said.

“Could the Ponytail Squad have been… _right_ about something?”

They both stared off into space, considering it.

“Nah,” Jules said. “We got lucky. I spent way too much time looking up other women’s football players, and Brandi Chastain was the only one who made me feel anything.”

“Wait. That actually supports the idea that Alexandra knew _exactly_ what she was doing when she put that up.”

“No. No,” Jules said, nearly losing her train of thought in a fit of laughter. “That cannot—I refuse to accept it. Those girls have never not had a heterosexual thought in their life.”

“Even Charlotte?”

“Believe me, I tried talking to her. I got nothing.”

They burst into laughter.

What. The. Fuck. Jules was having an actual, normal-sounding conversation about sexuality with her _best friend._ What was _happening?_

This was the first time in her life she’d ever been able to talk about being gay and it felt… good. Really good.

But why was she doing this? What did he hope to gain by this? A relationship? It couldn’t be possible. Jess Bhamra was not into her, and to think otherwise would be deluding herself.

* * *

The two of them fell silent yet again, sitting in the grass, suddenly much more comfortable in each other’s presence than they’d been in a long time.

But… something still remained wedged between them. However, this something would not last. Obfuscation was fighting a losing battle. Although neither Jess nor Jules knew it yet, they were on an irreversible collision course with each other. For now, they simply sat in the grass and watched the stars and the planes and the party, happy just to have someone else who knew what it was like. And then Jules leapt to her feet.

Jess watched curiously as Jules dove behind a row of potted plants.

“I—knew it—somewhere—A-HA!” Jules crawled back out, holding a football aloft. “Let’s go to the park down the road! Frankly, I’m getting bored with this party, and I can only take so much sitting. How long has it been since we just kicked around a ball without worrying about anything?”

Jess considered, and then shot to her feet. “You didn’t even have to ask. Let’s go.”

They squeezed through the packed house and took off down the lane, the cool wind rushing across their faces as they ran full-speed towards the park at the end of the lane. Jess almost wanted to laugh at how free she suddenly felt. All the tension of past months were sliding off her back.

As they reached the park, deserted at this hour but with a few streetlights at one end by a goal still giving enough light to play, Jess and Jules didn’t hesitate. They simply ran straight onto the field and, without pause, began booting the ball to one another. They fell into their familiar rhythm easily, the two of them, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

They worked their way around the goal, dancing around imaginary defenders, tapping the ball to each other from impossible angles, their trainers digging into the ground, grass clippings flying up around their ankles. A light mist was rising up from the pitch, a mist that the ball pierced over and over again, pulling little wisps of moisture into a vortex behind it. Not once did they aim for the goal, though. Not until some indeterminate amount of time had passed, and they suddenly found themselves panting, almost too tired to keep going, and just far enough away from the goal for a spectacular final.

Jess paused. Rolled the ball under her foot. Brushed the sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes. Gave Jules a grin.

“Send it,” she said.

That was all she needed to say. Jules brightened and gave her a thumbs-up. Together, they launched themselves toward the goal. One pass, two passes, three passes, a fourth, and suddenly Jess had the ball as she charged toward the goal. In her mind’s eye, there was nothing but a lone goalie before her—and in reality, Jules by her side, streaking towards the pivot point of fate. Jess drew back and kicked a perfect line to Jules, who leapt and made contact with the ball in midair, the foot of her outstretched leg connecting immaculately and sending the ball squarely into the net.

Jess raised her arms and shouted it to the heavens. “Gooooooooooaaaaaalllll!”

When Jules came charging towards her, she didn’t resist. She only smiled and held out her arms. They collided and tumbled to the ground just like they had so many times before, sliding across the grass on the slippery dew. When they came to a stop, Jess was on top of Jules.

They fell silent. Jess looked into Jules’s widening eyes. The shine of the lights glimmered off the sweat and dew on Jules’s face, giving her what appeared to Jess an ethereal glow. They said nothing, frozen in their positions, listening to each other’s breathing. The field was silent except for the distant rumble of a plane, which neither of them noticed.

A deep blush was spreading over Jules’s face, and then Jess knew. She knew what she’d probably known all along but didn’t want to admit until now. And Jules knew too, because her lips parted in a small, exhilarated smile, and she started to breathe out a word like it was her oxygen.

“Jess…”

 _Send it,_ Jess thought, and went in for the kiss.

For Jess, it was so much better than she ever imagined it could be. It was the return of warmth, the coming dawn, the promise of better things ahead.

For Jules, it was the ecstatic answer to a question she never even knew she’d had. This was what love could feel like. It felt like an electric charge had gone arcing up and down her spine upon contact, filling her with a new, trembling frisson.

There would be trials to come, for sure. But the here and the now was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> It's a CRIME that the movie wasn't Jess/Jules.
> 
> Don't worry, I'm back to RWBY and Star Wars fics after this. If I can ever get around to writing them.


End file.
